Never Grow Old

Part 1-Betrothed

Copyright (c) 2011 ---RoseBlossom

All written works made from this user are coyrighted by law and will be persecuted to the highest degree by law. If anyone sees any work on wattpad that are in likeness to my story please let me know and I will deal with it accordingly. Thanks. Sorry I have to write this, but there are shady ppl out there. 

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What if it was possible to never grow old, never see wrinkles on your face and to live a long life without dying from natural causes until you decided to lay down your life for the eternal rest?

In my age this is unambiguously possible.

The old world was deteriorating from the great loss procured through wars, diseases, famine and drought. Even the ancient super countries couldn’t put it off for long; they too succumbed to the diminishing of the world’s natural resources.

Then something happened. My history book calls it The Epoch. Whether it was an act of nature, or God, or the efforts of secret organizations; the world began to heal itself;

The dried up rivers became swollen currents branching over dormant, fertile lands crying for sustenance.

Those same lands grew into lush crops, smarmy forests, and eventually became the agricultural Utopias for the people of my era-

 “Asha.”

She interrupts my thought process as I try to remember what I was going to write next. The essay isn't done yet so I don’t look up; I don’t want to look up.

“Asha.” She says, louder, bullish.

Giving in, I look up,not surprised by who it is. From the moment I smelled her new perfume, the one everyone is snatching up at the commissary, which to me smells like dirty water trying to be sweet, I knew it was her.

For a second I lock my hazel eyes with her piercing light blue ones. Ghost eyes, I think. Then look back to the screen, the click clacking of my fingers on the keys never stopping.

I can feel, rather than see, her mood; she has become impatient. I hope that if I keep writing just this once she’ll go away.

 But she is resilient, like a snake waiting in the bushes for hours, watching the little birds play in the water, watching for the right moment to strike.

“Asha, you must come with me. Your instructor is here.” She says, her lilting voice effectively giving me chills.

The keys go silent. I get up and see a satisfied smile play on her lips when she thinks I’m not looking. I almost laugh at her indecency.

Always cognizant of her movements, and her moods, she can hide nothing from me. I have learned to do so in order to survive.

I deftly follow her down the hall painted a sickly yellow color, and almost vomit from her new perfume.

We pass mirrors on the wall, and I hesitate to glance at myself, but can’t help doing so. Every time I do, I compare myself to the woman in front of me. The one I call mother.

We both have the same thin frame, and slightly pointy nose. She has small, pouty lips which most call luscious, while my dad’s plumper and broader ones adorn my mouth. Sometimes I wonder what I would have looked like if I had inherited her blonde locks, rare these days, instead of having a darker hue of brown.

I might have been more popular, maybe even went down the better path. Who can know?

Her skin is pale even in the brightness of the yellow hall, while my skin is tinted with a slight hue of brown, from the recent summer sun.